


Goodbye, Jughead Jones

by Phelpsgirlxxx



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Homeless Jughead, Homelessness, Jughead dies, Jughead missing, Major character death - Freeform, Season 1 Episode 12, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phelpsgirlxxx/pseuds/Phelpsgirlxxx
Summary: Please do not read if this will be triggering to you.Alternate ending to season 1 episode 12.What if his Mother's rejection had been the final straw for Jughead Jones?





	Goodbye, Jughead Jones

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, another warning, please do not read this if it will be triggering to you.
> 
> I wrote this like a year ago, maybe more, I can't exactly remember and I decided to post it, finally.
> 
> Please read and review, and if you like it, perhaps kudos it.
> 
> Thanks x

Betrayal stung deep.

Blood pounded within his veins as he ran. He ran, not knowing his destination but only thinking he wanted to be anywhere, anywhere away from those that had betrayed him. He felt sick to his stomach, how had he let himself become so vulnerable? He used to be strong, but now… now he definitely didn't feel strong.

He could hear them shouting his name as he ran, blood rushing in his ears, the adrenaline making him unaware of the stitch in his side.

Fight or flight, well, there was only one option that Jughead could really go with. Who was he meant to fight? Sheriff Keller? He couldn't do that. Sure, he had believed his Father was innocent, but who knew now?

Jughead ran, finally making his way to the trailer and ripping the police tape off the entrance. He flung himself down in the corner of the living room and sobbing in to his knees. What the Hell was he going to do?

He knew soon Betty would be swarming bringing Archie and Veronica with her no doubt.

Jughead sighed. He had been so happy with Betty, and staying with the Andrews? It had been the happiest Jughead had been in a long time. With the Andrews he could have meals every night, breakfast every morning, a warm bed and a hot shower. To some, it was nothing, but to him it meant everything.

Jughead knew it was only a temporary arrangement. Mr Andrews was not going to put up with him staying with them forever. Heck he would be surprised if he let Jughead stay the rest of the week! He was officially homeless and he didn't have the safety net of his Father if he needed it. Jughead would often have rather died than go back to the trailer park, and yet it had always been an option, just one he wouldn't let himself consider.

Now, the safety net was gone.

Jughead felt a flash of inspiration shudder through his slim body. His Mum? Jellybean!

Jughead grabbed a bag and slung it over his shoulder and headed towards the bus station and purchasing a ticket to Ohio. Everything was going to be fine, he was sure of it.

It took him thirty minutes to get there, as the adrenaline that had previously been pounding had left him and he was running on empty. It seemed years ago since the meal at Betty's house.

When he finally arrived, he purchased his ticket and sat, waiting.

It struck him that perhaps he should phone his Mum. What if she was out when he got there? He wasn't quite sure how long it would take on the bus, but there was a chance she'd be out. He had to let her know.

He rang the number he had engraved into his mind and listened to the ringing, his breathing matching the sound.

It seemed to be a lifetime before his Mum answered and he breathed a sigh of relief when he got through to her.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it's me. Jughead.”

“Why are you calling at this hour?”

The lack of love in her tone made him flinch but he recomposed himself.

“I'm coming to Ohio.”

Jughead had made the educated decision not to tell her about his Dad. Not yet. It wasn't something you really told someone over the phone.

“Oh Jughead, no, that's not a good idea.”

He listened to her spiel and he could feel his heart breaking with every excuse.

It was concrete evidence, his Mum didn't want him. Heck, he'd probably never see Jellybean again.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he wiped them, trying to sniff inconspicuously, not willing for his Mother to hear him crying.

“I'm sorry Jughead.”

He could tell his throat was stuffed, and he was choking on the overflow of emotions that were spiralling around him. His mind was screaming at him and he didn't know what to do. Where was his life going to go? He was going to be alone forever, he had finally let someone in, let them in properly and now… now they had betrayed him and he didn't know what to do.

“It's fine. I've got to go.”

Without waiting for a response, he hung up.

He switched his ticket for one for New York, and realised with a sigh that he had hours to kill. His first thought was going to Pop's, and he found himself walking there without thought. His hand reached the handle, and he was about to open it, he could see Pop smiling at him from inside, when he withdrew it.

This would be the first place they would look for him.

He wandered around for a while, making sure to stay away from his regular haunts. As he walked, he thought and the angrier and sadder and lonelier he got. No one cared, not really. Sure Mr Andrews pretended to care, but that was just so he could make his son happy and just so that he could pay a debt he felt he owed his Dad, Mr Jones.  
Jughead found himself under a bridge, quite away from any houses, and he slumped down, not caring about the mud staining his jeans.

His thoughts were making him dizzy, and exhaustion was apparent and making him want to pass out.

You're alone.

You're always going to be alone.

No one wants you around.

Is it really a coincidence that the only two people you consider to be friends betrayed you?

They don't want you around.

Your Mother doesn't love you.

Jellybean probably doesn't even remember you.

End it.

Jughead felt so young, he knew technically that he was young, but he felt like a small child who needed the comfort of his Mother again, and yet the reality was he was alone and was likely always going to be. Was there really any needed to prolong his torturous life?

The last thought echoed around his brain, ticking through his mind like a melodic bomb. The thought just kept on ticking until it was cemented in his brain and Jughead was persuaded. Surely this was the only option.

He rooted in his rucksack and found some old pills, most likely out of date, but strong enough to kill him.

He twisted the cap in his hands carefully, considering.

There was no coming back from this, if he did it, he had to be sure.

The cycle of 'end it' continued in his head, cementing the decision further and making him sure of his decision. People normally left a note, and yet there was no time, not to him. Time had become a meaningless concept, sure, but he didn't want to waste any more of it by living.

He found a stick in the mood, and carved sorry deeply in to the wet patch beside him, before he slumped back against the wall, brushing his fringe with his filthy fingers and carefully manoeuvring his hat into place, silly, yet ritualistic.

Jughead couldn't remember the last words he spoke, but knew the last sound he made willing, was a scream. Was that the last thing he wanted to have said?

It was stupid.

No one was going to know Jughead Jones the III's last words, but it was something that had fascinated him when he was in middle school, famous last words.

He imagined the younger version of himself, and felt slightly guilty. The small, abused boy he was back then had grasped onto the idea of last words with a fascination, and he realised perhaps with a quirk of the eyebrow, that was where Reggie had got the idea of his fascination with death. Reggie wasn't wrong ironically, but he wasn't a necrophiliac. No, that was disgusting. Let the dead lie.

Let the dead lie.

Let him lie.

He soon was going to be one with the dead, and the peace of that settling on him finally made him take the cap off.

He looked at the sky, and realised it had started raining, and he hadn't noticed it. He snorted at the pathetic fallacy of it.

He raised his hand, extending the middle finger on his right hand and screaming fuck you at the stars.

He grabbed a handful of pills and swallowed them dryly, and he could feel the capsules scrape against his throat, and he swallowed more, three handfuls before the drugs were gone.

He leant back against the wall and felt a tear slip out. He didn't know how long it was going to take for this to take effect. He could feel his heart already fluttering in an unnatural way in his chest. He sighed closing his eyes, and waiting for them to take effect.

Finally.

 

It was two days later that Jughead was finally found. His body was found underneath a bridge, and the word sorry was etched into the mud next to his bloated corpse.

It had been Archie who had found him, and then promptly thrown up.

The night that FP had been revealed to be the murderer, or at least that's what had originally been assumed, until they found out the truth, everything had been hectic. When Jughead had run off and a few times they'd checked Pop's and Jughead had not been there, his friends had been at a loss.

He remembered Betty's frantic face as she realised that anything could have happened to Jughead, especially once they discovered the reason that FP had lied. Maybe Mr Blossom had killed Jughead.

“He wouldn't have. Surely, he wouldn't have. If someone killed Jughead, it would be quickly revealed that FP wasn't to blame for Jason Blossom's death.” Veronica reassured.

Archie agreed before Betty, uncharacteristically gave a scathing response.

“Don't be stupid. They might think that Jughead was killed by Mr Blossom before he commit suicide. He did tell FP that Jughead would come to harm if he didn't confess, and sure FP did confess, but the truth was revealed!”

Throughout the two days that Jughead was 'missing,' Betty had slowly become hysterical. She had barely slept and it was clear in her face.

When Archie finally found the corpse, the news of Jughead's disappearance had spread across the state, missing posters plastered to lamp posts, throughout each town, and each city. People were worried for his safety, and heck he was only 16! He needed to be with an adult, he was still a minor and he needed the care of a parent.

When Archie had stopped throwing up, he paused wondering who to call first. He felt like a really young child, and he knew what he needed, he wanted his Dad.

He grabbed his phone, and dialled his Father's number, and it was immediately answered, making Archie feel slightly safer.

“Archie?”

“I found him Dad, I found him.”

“Is he okay? Archie tell him-”

Mr Andrews was broken off by the sob that came from Archie's side of the phone.

“Son?”

“He's dead Dad. He's dead!”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Dad, what do I do?”

“Where are you?” Mr Andrews asked gravelly.

“Under the bridge near Maples.”

“I'm on my way. Now son, don't do anything stupid. I'm going to ring Sheriff Keller and everyone else-”

“I don't want to be alone.” Archie whispered.

“I know son, I know. We need to retrieve him, you don't want him to stay rotting under the bridge, do you?”

Mr Andrews knew it was slightly harsh, but he couldn't let his son fall into the pit of despair that he was currently circling. At least he needed Archie to be able to be with it while Jughead was finally taken away from under the bridge.

“No Dad.”

“Good boy. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“Yes.”

“See you soon.”

The phone call ended, and Archie just stared down at the blue tinged corpse of his best friend, perhaps even his oldest friend. How had everything gone so shit? Sure they had argued over the summer and barely talked, ironically at a time that Juggie really needed him. Things had gone to shit ever since the death of Jason Blossom.

“Your Dad was innocent Juggie. I wish you knew that. Oh God Juggie. I'm so sorry. I am so so sorry. Why did it have to end like this? Don't you remember what we were going to do? We were going to have houses next door to each other Juggie, don't you remember? You promised, I know we were eight, but you promised. Oh God, I feel stupid. I know you can't hear me, and a promise when you were eight years old isn't something that often gets carried out, but I wanted it to. You're my best friend Juggie, and you always will be, don't forget about that.” Archie continued rabbling on for what felt like hours, but there was no way he could really know how long it had been.

It seemed like a life time later that he felt a firm arm slide around his shoulders, and he immediately knew it was his Father, and he turned, sobbing into his Dad's shoulder.

“How did he die?” Mr Andrews asked, looking carefully at Sheriff Keller who was examining Jughead's cold body.

“Looks like a suicide.”

Mr Andrews gulped, guilt rising in his chest.

Archie was shaking against him, and Fred could tell Archie was using all the strength he possessed to even be stood upright.

“Do you want to take him home Fred?” Sheriff Keller asked, uncharacteristically gentle.

Fred paused.

“I feel like someone needs to be here for Jughead.”

“We can't just leave him.” Archie agreed, though his voice was slightly muffled by Fred's shoulder.

“We'll stay here for now. We need to...” Fred broke off, not even knowing what he was going to say.  
Sheriff Keller just nodded.

“Someone needs to tell the kids.” The Sheriff said slowly.

He knew that Kevin considered the Jones boy to be his friend and he wasn't sure what he was going to tell his son, but he knew that there was a certain impossibility to the task. How does a Father tell his son that one of his friends died? Normally, the Sheriff would just keep a professional aura, but he couldn't be that...that… sterile with his son. Not with his boy.

“That's probably a good idea.”

“Maybe if I contact the parents? They can tell their kids?” The Sheriff suggested.

Mr Andrews merely nodded.

The Sheriff left his colleagues to do move the poor boys body as he took the task of telling the other kids parents the fate of their friend.

The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose, angry.

Why was the world such a fucked up place? An innocent, despite slightly creepy kid, was dead and all because the world had fucked up so excessively for him. The Sheriff sent a slight prayer to the Heavens before pulling out his phone and letting the parents know.

His job was never, ever easy.


End file.
